I was a Teenage Thingamedendum
by don't eat no biscuit
Summary: The freakquel to Confessions! Please R and R, I only have sixteen hours to save the planet Earth. I beg of you. New chapters up... although by now my "readers" are probably all dead. If you believe in Tinkerbell, clap your hands and review.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:Louise Rennison owns absolutely everything about the following story. Not me.

Note: This is a freakquel to Confessions! So you might want to read that.

1:26 pm

Lalalala. Fabbity fab. Birds birding, clouds clouding, cats… er, cats attacking everything that moves. I don't know why specifically I am so vair vair happy. I've been Dave's OG before.

1:28 pm

As I was leaving Liberty, my adorable, mad sister ran up to me and shrieked, "Me come too!!"

"Well, alright, Libbs, but only for a few minutes." I also don't know why I am suddenly full of generousosability and joie de vivre and whatsit.

2:34 pm

Being pulled along like a mad kite by my darling sister. I did see quite a few people I knew near Boots, which was vair embarrassing. Libby could pull me into the sewage treatment facility place or a shop full of drugs and I wouldn't be able to stop her. For a midget, mad five year old she is quite strong.

"Gingey, here now!"

She pointed to a store. But it was not just any store, it was a store full of…er. Items for number 10. Oh giddygodspajamas.

"NO, LIBBS. Look, I see an ice-cream truck. I'll get you an ice cream if you COME WITH ME."

"No. Bad boy."

She wouldn't stop! The mad little fool wouldn't turn around!

I held onto a telephone pole for dear life. God save us all.

But then, like a shining beacon of hope and weirdness in pants, Dave showed up. Libby was distracted by him and his mates.

"Heggo, Dabe!" Libby yelled like a mad ducklet.

Dave gave me a darty-eye-between-me-and-Libby look, like "Your sister is madder than a hatter".

"Er, well, Gee, I don't think you should start buying such things yet, I'm not ready," he said.

Oh goddygodgod. I wanted to die right there. My head was about to fall off from redness. And in front of all his mates too!

But then he said, "Just kidding. Kidding." And he kissed me. Only a quick number five, I didn't want my little sister to be exposed to a porno nearly twice in one day.

But then Libby, the disturbed toddler from Planet Xenon, distracted them all by biting Rollo on the hand.

7:24 pm

Bugger. How had I managed to make a fool of myself twice so quickly?

Rollo was cool about it, she didn't draw blood or anything, but he did run in the shop

(no, not THAT shop) to disinfect his hands in the guy's tarts wardrobe. Fair enough.

They all had to go off to some footie game or practice or something, I wasn't really listening, I was preoccupied with the Vampire Child clawing my leg.

Dave said "S'laters" and then went off. I have given up trying to crack "S'laters".

It will never be solved.

Bringing Libby home I attempted to give her a stern talking to about biting people. And also about dragging her only sister into any shop that sells Durexes.

"Libby, you really shouldn't bite people, just because Angus can do it doesn't mean you should be."

No response from the vampirical toddler. She was quite busy chasing a leaf that had fallen. Poor leaf, it'll probably have been devoured before it touched the ground.

8:33 pm

Told Mutti, the more reasonable parent, about Libby and the many unfortunate incidents.

"Honestly, Gee, do you think I can do anything about her? She is a child. She can't help herself, she doesn't know she's done anything wrong."

"Well, maybe if she wasn't exposed to the kind of snogfest extravaganza you two are always going at, she wouldn't be going into sex shops and biting people like…"

"Like WHAT, exactly, Georgia Nicholson?"

I should have stopped myself. I am always in trouble when she drags out our grand, respectable Scottish name (not).

"Like a miniature, vampire you!"

9:41 pm

Merde. Mutti is not speaking to me at all. She has, however, told Vati, and him being the big macho-type person he expects he is, went ballisticisimus when he heard.

But he didn't ground me or anything. He just said, "Go ahead, then. Call your mother names. Be mean. You know, I've given up." And then he looked all saddish and left.

12:34 am

Poo.


	2. Chapter 2

Dsiclaimer: Louise Rennison owns all of the following characters and the basic plot of the following story. Actually, she pretty much owns everything about it.

10:34 am

Same bat time. Same bat place. The rest of my so-called family have gone out to Waterworld. Mutti is still being shirty and unreasonable and wouldn't give me a couple of squids to go shopping. So I had to hunt around her room for about twenty years to get a fiver.

The phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Gee?"

It was Jas, apparently.

"What?"

"Don't just say what, DO something!"

"How can I do anything when I don't know there is anything to be done about?"

"Well, you can't."

It is like talking to a walking stick.

"Hahahhahahaahaahaha."

"What now, Georgia?"

"Remember when Herr Kamyer went to the tourist information booth-type-thingie and came back with a walking stick?"

"Will you let me get to my nub?"

"Go on, then."

"Rosie and Sven have eloped to Neverland!"

"NEVERLAND?"

"Sorry. Sorry. Norway or Sweden or wherever the hell it is."

10:52 am

Emergency gang meeting

Met by the clock tower to discuss the big news. Apparently Rosie left a note for her parents and one for us. Ours read:

To the Ace Gang-

After seconds of careful consideration we have decided to elope to Sven's country. The marriage-age-type-thingie is lower in Norway. Also, I should probably meet his parents before he goes off and marries some English fool, or so they think. But don't be sad, etc. Because do you know why? HOOOOOORN! We will return on the 25th.

12:54 pm

Blimey. I always thought Rosie was a bit on the bonkers side.

1:00 pm

But not bonkers enough to go marry some "adorable Norwegian fool" (as she so eloquently put it) in a foreign country in which she doesn't know anyone or speak the language. Or know where the country is. Or put any thought into it at all.

1:01 pm

Bravo!

A/N- Sorry for the short chapter but it would seem stupid to continue the saga in the same chapter, also I have a cold and have just fallen down the stairs. I would write another chappie today but I am vair vair tired. I will write more though. S'laters.


	3. Chapter 3

-1**next day **

**10:35**

**Hallway of bonkerosity and semi-despair**

**Calling Dave**

"Have you heard this? This is insanosity." I was vair vair close to consuming the phone due to my unfortunate yelling-at-the-top-of-my-lungs situation.

"Uhm. I've kind of got a problem here." I heard giggly noises. Unless Dave had suddenly learned to talk and feign girly twit voices at the same time, there was another girl there with him.

"Okay." I slammed down the phone. Well, I tried. Unfortunately, my storming-away-in-a-huff via telephone was ruined by my stupid arse fingers. I was and am on the brink of desparosity and I've just gained a few pounds in the cakeshop of aggers, and my fingers cannot be ARSED to PUT THE PHONE DOWN. Fine. I'm ignoring my fingers.

**11:00**

**In my bed of pain, eating agny cake that has, incidentally, been tainted by antifreeze**

Oh god. Oh goddygod god. Oh my giddy aunt's brassiere. Has it come to this? I'm being cuckolded by my OB. Who vyed for my love. With an Italian Stallion and the guitar plucker. I threw away Robbie and Masimo for the bloody snake in the tight jeans?! Has it come to this? No, it has bloody well not. I must call another gang meeting.

**Clock tower**

**12:30**

Merde.

Absolutely merde, poo, thrice poo, and schiessenhausen.

"Well, maybe, maybe that's what you get for leading on the others and being a vixen and a minx and so on." That is Jazzy Spazzy's idea of advice. And then she did the nodding dog parrot fiasco. Then I hit her over the head with a stick.

"Well, I don't know, you know, maybe he, you know, had...you know. Maybe it was, like, maybe his sister."

You can guess who said that. I was all relieved and happy for a minute until I realized DAVE DOESN'T HAVE A SISTER.

Jas is right, isn't she? I am a heartless minx and Dave was put off by my glaciosity with a hint of Eastern promise and so on. That must be it. All right, that settles it. I'm going to go break it off with Dave. After I am finished fuming at him for cheating on his OG.

**1:00**

**Dave's House**

Well, all my adventures in love end here. I have flirted with the best of them and now my prime ends at the age of 17. Lovely.

I cannot share a OB with another girly twit.

I'm ringing the doorbell.

I'm ringing the doorbell again.

I'm ringing the doorbell again.

What in the name of God's shorty pajamas is taking so bloody long to open the door?

Here I am, on the brink of lesbian-hairy-monknosity, and Dave cannot be arsed to open the door.

I'm ringing the doorbell to a little tune I am singing and do you know what the tune is called? It's remarkably similar to "You are a Drunk and an Unfit Mother". It is called "You are a Minx and You're Leaving Your Boyfriend."

A little old lady answered the door. She looked up at my like the very elderly mad often do, through her little spectacles.

And then I realized I was at the wrong house.

I am feverish with despair.

**1:10**

**The Right House (I hope)**

Ringing on the doorbell.

Dave answered the door.

And do you know who he was with?

He was with a bunch of little girls with face paint on.

"Hey, kittykat- Could you help with the toddler mad?" He tried to gesture at the little toddler folk, however, three of them were unfortunately clawing at his hands so he couldn't.

Hahahahahahahahahaha. The problem was a party for the toddly folk.

Hahahahahaha. The laughing was one of the little girls with the face paint on.

**3:30**

**Dave's Bedroom**

The toddly folk have left. We cleaned up the remains of the party and tried to clean up the glass shards (oh please don't ask) and then we went up to his room.

"So, anywho, what brought you to the Hotel Insanosity?"

There was not a chance in hell's frozen ice skating rink that I was going to tell Dave about the bout of heebie-jeebnosity and doubt that made me go over there.

"Well, you see, when I called you and you answered and you were busy and I heard like a nimby girly type in the background and..."

He looked vair confused for a moment and the then a look of enlightenment spread across his face.

"You have a suspicious mind, Kittykat."

"I...well, the Colonel made me do it."

"God you're weird."

And then he kissed me again.


	4. Chapter 4

**return of the madness**

**10:30 am**

**Brekkie**

In all of the suspiciosity and bamboozlosity that seems to be popping up so much around the Valley of the Damned, also known as Stalag Fourteen, I had nearly forgotten the Viking celebrations we must plan for the return of the happy (hahahahahahahaha) couple.

Oo-er. So if they get married, does that mean...alors, alors, get out of my head.

That is a sign of the General and Cosmic Horns and beyond. That is beyond the pale beyonds. It's...

It's the Pantstastic Horn.

Eurgh.

**11:50 **

**Clock Tower**

Called a top secret meeting of the Ace Gang (minus one, of course, who is off in the Land of the Reindeer marrying blokes who don't speak the queen's English and so on. God knows what else she's doing. Actually, hopefully God does not know what she is doing. Even though he is impotent and so on.)

"Mes grand pallies, we must prepare for the viking celebrations." I said this with an air of urgency and importance and whatsit.

Jas, who was cross because we had dragged her away from her vole poo experimenting with Hunky, said, "You mean, we must figure out how to make utter prats of ourselves in the name of Viking cheer and so on, even though the Vikings were really a lot of sacking and looting old blokes who went around murdering and--"

"Jas, Jas, my little amigo, did you know that Vikings actually treated women better than the English did in those times and women would ask the Vikings to take them away as slaves because they'd be respected more?"

Hahahahahahahaha-di-haha and beyond. That shut her gob. Thank you, Herr Kamyer, for your brilliant teaching tactics.

Again, hahahahahahahahahahahahahahah. And thrice ha.

Resuming my speech, I said, "First we must find vats for mead and so on and then a litter to carry the triumphant law-evading couple around town in all of their wedded glory..."

Crikey, apparently my subconcious was taking this with all seriosity. I was beginning to sound like Rosie.

After practicing the Viking bison disco inferno until we were nearly on the brink of starvation (ie, we had no chuddie and Mabs was beginning to complain about her heels- seven inches, I ask you, wouldn't it be easier to buy stilts and be done with it all?). we split up for the day.

**next day**

**4:30 am**

Bloody hell, what am I awake for at the crack of FOUR? Something's rotten in the state of...er, Peru.

No sign of the furry freak hoodlums, unless you count the assorted carcasses and...small brown objects scattered about the house as signs.

I have just looked out the window.

Do you know what is in the window?

You do not.

I'll tell you what was in the window. Sven's head, that's what. He was sitting in the tree. What in the name of God's shortie pajamas is SVEN doing here?? Where is the bride/bride-to-be?

I'll tell you where she is. She is on the ground like one of the semi-normal. But then again, sitting in your mate's yard at four in the morning does not strictly constitute normalcy.

I got down the the yard (trying desperately not to wake the olds, who would put a swift end to the couple's married lives if they found them out there. And I don't mean via divorce) when what to my wondering eyes should appear but...well, but a huge bloke on a tree and Rosie, who was waiting for me..

"What in the name of God's shortest miniskirt are you people DOING here?"


	5. Chapter 5

**8:30 am**

**house of insanity**

Oh my giddy lesbian aunt's hairy, gravy-stained trousers.

Rosie and Sven, after eloping to the Enchanted Land of Magical Lederhosen, went to gain the approval of Sven's parents for marriage.

And do you know what they said?

Rosie was Not a Proper Lady.

Apparently when they caught sight of RoRo's excellent false beard, Sven's vati was under the impression that Rosie was, in fact, a man, and that Sven's voyage across the sea had turned him into a homosexualist. He began shouting at Sven in Reindeer while Sven's mutti began to sob. Ro somehow got the message (perhaps she's learned Reindeer and Sven's lack of English will no longer matter, who knows?) and removed her false beard, which caused an unfortunate swearing incident due to the excessive amounts of glue Rosie had applied.

How many times will glue defeat the Ace Gang in the ways of lurrrrve?!

Anywhatsit, Rosie started swearing like a Norwegian fisherman (and I do mean Norwegian, complete with a thorough knowledge of the more inappropriate language), which led Sven's vati to believe that RoRo was low-class and Not a Proper Lady. He stopped shouting about homosexualists and started yelling some other rubbish about dating a the wife of a fishmonger or the village tart. At this point Ro was on the verge of tears and hysteriosity considering she did not speak Rubbish fluently, and Sven was apparently fed up with the entire Family Feud Fiasco.

He then flung Rosie over his shoulder and drove off into the sunset like the mad Dane he is. Although apparently it was not so much "drove" as "lumbered" considering they had somehow employed some sort of insane horse-mule-donkey-bear hybrid to arrive at the Sven Homestead.

RoRo and the disgruntled Groom-To-Have-Been are currently sitting on my floor (RoRo snuck up through the house, whilst Sven basically flung himself through my window) eating crackers and chiz. Rosie got a bit weepy recounting the story to me, which apparently made Sven even more disgruntled, because he sort of jerked Rosie towards him and snogged the crackers and chiz out of her. Literally. It was not, shall we say, appetizing.

So apparently my Genius Plan for World Domination and Mead Barrels has been smashed by the cruel, cruel nutcracker of a Swedish vati.

**8:35 am**

Crikey. Are all vatis terminally insane? It's not like Sven was asking his vati to marry her, all Sven wanted was not to have to canoodle in sin...oh, God, vivid mental image.

**8:37 am**

God help us one and all.


End file.
